Make it Right - Octogoblin

Chapter 1- Home Sweet Home

Norman was in pain. So much pain. He tried opening his eyes, but all he could see was darkness, were they even working? Every inch of his body ached. In the past, when Goblin was in control, Norman would sometimes find himself waking up aching and confused, but he was never usually left in such a state as this.

Goblin... The Goblin...! As if a switch had been flipped his memories came flooding back to him. Another universe, another Spider-Man, Otto and those horrible tentacles!

His vision returned almost simultaneously, placing him back, exactly where he'd been before he got whisked away across universes. Covered in dust, battered and bruised and staring at an equally battered Peter Parker.

Not the strange other Peter that he'd spent yesterday with. No. His Peter. Standing in front of him, looking at him with a certain glint in his eye. It was a look that Norman couldn't place; perhaps it was anger, confusion, sadness and even hope, it was clear the boy was conflicted and Norman couldn't blame him. After everything the Goblin had done, how could he hope for forgiveness.

"I-" the words died on his tongue, whatever the thought vanished, replaced by horror. Caught in his peripheral vision there was something a lot more urgent... His glider. Spikes fully out, top speed, flying straight at Peter.

"Peter!" He shouted, a desperate effort to warn the boy, though he needn't have bothered. Peter gracefully leapt over the glider before the word had fully left his mouth.

Norman released a shaky breath, though he didn't have a chance to feel relief. He barely even had a chance to move before the blades plunged straight into his flesh.

His breath caught in his throat as the world seemed to slow down, he coughed and something trickled down his cheek. Blood? Or perhaps a tear? Norman reached up gingerly, touching where the blades punchered his body. A thought crossed his fading consciousness, the other universe and everything that happened there. It didn't matter, because he was going to die anyway.

With his quickly fading strength, he forced himself to look up at Peter, the boy had barely moved so only minimal time must have elapsed.

"Don't tell Harry," he managed to croak out before the darkness consumed him. At least this way he could be with Emily.

The first thing Norman noticed as consciousness crept back to him was that Emily wasn't there waiting for him. Her kind smile and beautiful eyes, forever lodged in his memory, were nowhere to be seen. Instead all he could see was white. He blinked, then squinted, trying to lessen the bright barrage on his eyes.

"If this is death," he mused, "It certainly isn't peaceful. My mind feels like mush," trying to move caused a sharp pain throughout his whole body and he was only just able to resist the urge to cry out. "A dead man wouldn't be in this much pain,"

As his mind slowly began to shed the haze that held it hostage, he became aware of a beeping and some distant chatter. Okay, he was probably in hospital then, that honestly made a lot more sense. Hospitals... he wasn't fond of them. Don't get it wrong, he knew how vital they were and praised their fantastic work, but all they did was remind him of Emily... in the end. She was so pale... so lifeless. He was suddenly painfully aware of how dry his throat was, it'd probably been like that for a while but he was too out of it to notice. It wasn't a pleasurable experience, but his attempt to remedy it quickly devolved into a coughing fit. Drawing someone who he presumed was a nurse to his side.

The unknown, possible nurse, rushed over to him with a glass of water clutched in her hand. As his coughing subsided, she helped him drink, steadying the glass as he gulped down the water, soothing his throat and quenching his sudden rampant thirst.